


Two Fools

by mattsloved1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Realization of love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattsloved1/pseuds/mattsloved1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A two part story where both men realize they love one another and maybe get a little help from a from a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock realizes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to MLC! First for reading this last night, this would have been trashed if she hadn't. Second for betaing it for me this morning.

**This is AU from the series in that John was not there to see a scan done on the baby as mentioned in S3E3.**

 

The door to 221B Baker Street closed. Seconds later, John came into view, gave a tired smile to his friend and went into the kitchen.

"Tea?" he called out.

From his chair, Sherlock hummed, lost in thought.

John's marriage had ended. Separated from Mary for months and then busy helping Sherlock disprove Moriarty's return, he had not lived intimately with his wife long enough to realize the pregnancy, like everything else about the former assassin, was fake.

Their final conversation had been full of hurtful words.

_"You didn't check to see how my pregnancy was going while we were apart! You didn't ask about doctors' visits or how things were progressing! Were you even concerned about your child?"_

_"Of course I was, but there was no baby to be concerned about! It was just another lie! Like the woman I married, it never existed!"_

_"If Mary Morstan had existed and died in childbirth, you would never have mourned for her as you did for Sherlock Holmes."_

Both admitted there was nothing to salvage and that night John had showed up at Baker Street with a bag of clothes.

Without a word, Sherlock had read everything on his face, given his friend an unexpected hug and played his violin while John put his few belongings away. Now, for a third time, they were sharing a living space and Sherlock couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest. Even during difficult times, he felt content when John was near.

He then remembered something his mother had once told him. _"Home is where the heart is. Your father and I could live in a castle or a cottage and I would be content with my lot in life because he has my heart and is my true home."_

Sherlock felt his own heart begin to race.

Before John, Sherlock had used drugs to fill the emptiness inside and calm his frantic mind. After John's arrival, they were unnecessary. During his two-year absence, he had relapsed more than once, always careful to wait until he was moderately safe. He had managed to fight off the need while helping plan the Watsons' wedding but given in afterward. He had only stopped again because of John. John, who had found him in a drug den, forced him to be tested and chose to stay with him as Sherlock suffered from withdrawals and healed from the bullet wound Mary had given him. While in custody after Christmas, it had not been possible and John had been by his side as he proved James Moriarty was not returning. Then the Watsons had separated and the two men were together at Baker Street once more. Sherlock rested a shaking hand over his chest.

He finally understood his mother's words and it terrified him.


	2. John Figures It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A story where both men realize they love one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m certain many of you were convinced I would never get this chapter up. I actually wrote John’s chapter first as a 221B but Sherlock’s ended up being longer and I felt John should have his chance too. I'm rather pleased with how this came out. Especially since this went through five different drafts, two of them being lost after they were finished. 
> 
> Many thanks to MapleleafCameo, if not for her none of this would have been shared. 
> 
> Sadly, I don’t own them. Not even the quote. It belongs to Dr. Seuss. :-)

John’s eyes scanned through his latest case write-up. Satisfied there were no spelling mistakes, he posted it on his blog then closed his laptop. After setting it to the side, he gave a good stretch and glanced across at Sherlock, the man captivated by the book resting in his lap.

Six years had passed since he’d first laid eyes on the dramatic genius. Hints of gray now mixed with dark, curly hair and reading glasses were propped upon the aristocratic nose. When Sherlock reached up to scratch at his left ear, John smiled, mind drifting, slipping backward.

As a young boy, his family loved to laugh at the youngest Watson’s love of sleep. John’s Gran would tell him of his ability to rest through the night when only two months old. How his parents were certain it wouldn’t last but last it did. For the young boy, there was something lovely about snuggling down into the fitted sheet, the duvet covering him, protecting him, while he rubbed his head against his pillow three times, took a deep breath and let himself fall into dreams.

Many nights he would go up to his room before bedtime and later, as his father drank and Harry fussed in a nearby room, little Johnny dreamed. Some nights he was visiting his Nan, the two of them baking his favorite biscuits. Other times he was fighting dragons or patching up animals that needed his help.

As John grew, girls or injured people replaced mythical creatures, but even after leaving his parents’ house, he still loved a good night’s rest. Yes, he might drop into bed exhausted during medical school, but a night out with his mates at the pub didn’t stop him from being the first to leave so he could get some real sleep before the next day. In Afghanistan, circumstances and commanding officers controlled every part of John’s life.

Once discharged and back in London, he fought to fall back into a regular sleeping schedule. John was quick to learn he might not be in the active war zone physically, but his mind was more than happy to send him back there as he dreamed. He started taking long walks in an attempt to tire himself so he might sleep through the night, determined to regain one of the things stolen from him. Weeks of moderate success passed.

Just after the New Year, Mike introduced him to Sherlock Holmes and life again changed. Not only did his limp disappear, but also the boredom and consistent hours of sleep John had started reclaiming. Now John spent many of his nights helping to solve crimes. Mycroft had been correct their first meeting. A person did see the battlefield when they walked with his brother and John was happy to be by his side for two years.

Then Reichenbach happened and one of John’s worst nightmares became a reality.

Even after finding Mary, John’s dreams were haunted; a smile only he could see, shared giggles after an insane moment, violin music, both men in 221B. At times, he fought tears as the contentedness seeped from his bones upon waking. When Mary teased him about his loving sleep more than he loved her, John smiled as guilt pricked his conscience.

Then, as only he could, Sherlock Bloody Holmes returned.

John filled his days with wedding plans and shifts at the surgery, his nights spent sleeping beside Mary or solving cases with Sherlock. Happy to have his friend in his life again, John found his dreams more pleasant. He slept less but better than he had since Moriarty’s final move.

John chose to not spend more than a few seconds of thinking on his time with Mary after their wedding. One month of bliss before everything had gone to hell: Sherlock bleeding out in front of him, Mary not as he’d believed, Magnussen dead and Sherlock shipped off on a suicide mission as punishment.

After everything had settled down, thank God Moriarty was well and truly dead, more lies came to surface and the Watsons, with no baby on the way after all, had finally admitted there was nothing to salvage. John, feeling like a complete fool, left his marriage with only a single bag of clothes and made his way to Baker Street once more. Sherlock knowing what had happened as soon as he opened the door was not a surprise, but the tight hug that followed was and John had fought back tears at the comfort he felt in the gesture.

Two years later, they were still catching criminals and John couldn’t remember a time when he had felt more content. He was still fit for his age, was part of something important and while he slept less than recommended, he found he didn’t crave the escape it had once offered him. He loved the time spent working with Sherlock on a case, listening to the violin if he woke from a nightmare, reminiscing about previous adventures or simply sitting across from one another. Silent, as they were now.

John heard his Gran’s voice as he remembered something she had once told him. “You know you're in love, Johnny, when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

Sherlock stretched his legs out and bumped John’s feet with his own. At that moment, John knew how Sherlock felt when all the pieces of a case came together in front of him and a puzzle that had once been unsolvable was now complete.

John’s breath caught when he realized, “I love Sherlock.”

Before him was the person who mattered most. The one whose absence had left a ragged tear in the fabric that made up who John Watson had become. It was insane, wonderful and at the same time terrifying. Before John could begin to smile at the life-changing revelation, he remembered Sherlock’s remarks their first night at Angelo’s. His continued lack of interest in the area of romantic relationships made John pause and the times he had heard Sherlock repeat what Mycroft had taught him, “Caring is not an advantage,” made John frown. Speaking about his newly discovered feelings was too much of a gamble, he decided. The odds were not in his favor.

Squaring his shoulders, John determined what he had just learned would never be shared with another soul. The possible loss of Sherlock in his life was not worth the risk.

No, forgetting the beautiful truth was best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned on a third chapter, one where confessions take place but now I’m not sure if this shouldn’t be left as it is. Thoughts?


	3. Molly Speaks Her Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock leaned towards his friend and whispered into his ear. When John giggled, Molly threw her hands in the air. “All right, I can’t take anymore!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to MapleLeafCameo for reading through this for me. It hasn’t been Brit picked so please excuse any mistakes. Also, I realized this is the first thing I’ve written in just over three months.

Author’s note: I like how Molly’s character has grown in the series. I think the woman who slapped Sherlock in anger in His Last Vow is a stronger and more assertive woman than the one who tried to catch Sherlock’s attention in Study in Pink. Since this piece takes place sometime after Vow, I’ve allowed her to mature even more and have the courage of speaking out when she feels it is necessary. 

It surprised both men when it happened. Not just because they discovered the one they loved returned their feelings or that a mutilated body lay between them. This was Sherlock Holmes and John Watson after all. No, the thing that shocked them most was the fact a fed up Molly brought about the shift in their relationship.

Once again, they were in the morgue. Lestrade had called them in to look at a body found by the railroad tracks; Caucasian male, mid-thirties, his legs cut off when a train hit him. The thing Sherlock found most interesting was the hatchet embedded in the back of his skull. Apparently, the man had gone missing after attending a co-worker’s birthday party three days before. Now, Lestrade hoped to learn where he had gone and who might want him dead. 

Sherlock leaned towards his friend and whispered into his ear. When John giggled, Molly threw her hands in the air. 

“All right, I can’t take anymore!”

The matching confused expressions would have made Molly chuckle most any other day, but she had something far more important on her mind. Taking a deep breath, she organized her thoughts and squared her shoulders. 

“I need to say something and while I do, I want the both of you to remain quiet. No speaking, at all.” 

As expected, Sherlock’s mouth opened. Molly made a stop motion with her left hand and said, firmly, “Not a word until I’m finished.”

Having witnessed her transformation from timid pathologist whose blind affections irritated him, to a woman who put him in his place not once but twice (the first time when he was on drugs and the second when he tore apart Lestrade’s integrity while in a mood), Sherlock closed his mouth. 

“We’ve all watched the both of you for six and a half years now. You would do anything for one another. I don’t believe two people could love each other more.” 

“Of course we do,” John said, “We’re best friends.”

Deciding to ignore the fact he’d broken her rule, Molly rolled her eyes. “No, that isn’t the kind of love I’m talking about. I mean you are in love with one another. You feel the ‘share a bed every night, grow old together and die at the same time’ kind of love. Those of us close to you have seen it for years.” 

Stunned, John sat down on a nearby chair. Glancing at Sherlock, Molly could see the fear in his eyes as his left hand twitched. 

“For a long time I thought I was wrong, but I’ve learned a lot. How to observe, not just see. You’ve risked your lives for one another multiple times. Sherlock, you even ‘died’ for two years to keep John safe. Before you left, there was such sadness in your eyes because you knew you had to leave him behind and when you came back, who did you rush to see first?”

She turned and focused on John. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see how you mourned for him while he was gone. You stopped living those first few months. We all took turns checking in on you because we were afraid we might lose you too. I didn’t know if Sherlock would have someone to come home to. All the life seeped out of your eyes, John and while I know you loved Mary, you didn’t truly come back to us until he did. Since your divorce, you’ve pretty much stopped dating. We rarely see one of you without the other.” 

Molly cleared her throat before continuing. 

“I think you’re both terrified your feelings might not be returned, that you might lose the other if it’s one-sided and you don’t dare risk it.” 

Seeing the way both men looked at the floor, Molly knew she was right. She walked up to Sherlock, turned him towards her and looked up into his face.

“If you never listen to another word I say, listen to me now. That man loves you. He loves you for who you are and even if you never solved another case, he would still love you. He comes alive when you’re around, and would give his life without a second thought if it meant you were safe.”

She then walked around the table and stood in front of John, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Before you, I never would have believed Sherlock Holmes would sacrifice himself for anyone but that’s exactly what he did for you, John Watson. He left his home, family, friends and the job he needs so you would be safe. I know he says he used drugs again because it was for a case, but there were plenty of other options and we both know it. I think he took the route that would help him forget you were Mary’s and not his. Haven’t you noticed that when you enter a room, he can’t help but look? He’s allowed you inside his life in ways others aren’t allowed and all because he’s desperately in love with you.”

After it was silent for a short while, Molly began to feel self-conscious and knew it would be best if she left them alone. She made her way towards the door, looking back to smile. 

“You’re both good men and I’m glad you’re my friends. I know you’d both die happy if things stayed as they are now but don’t miss the chance to have something even more wonderful together. I think your love is rare. Something few people experience. Don’t let your fears hold you back when they aren’t necessary. ” 

Just before the door closed, Molly called out, “Talk to each other!” 

Once Molly’s footsteps faded, John and Sherlock turned to face one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a fourth and final chapter.


	4. Fools for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Sherlock and John to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Johnsarmylady for betaing and Britpicking this chapter for me! :-)

As the door clicked shut, John lifted his head. The amount of tension radiating through Sherlock’s body was amazing and John couldn’t stop the image of the taller man vibrating around the room from running through his mind. Only the seriousness of their current situation stopped him from laughing. One look at Sherlock’s clenched fists and John knew things would end badly if not handled right.

He tried to speak but his mind had gone blank. It seemed Sherlock had the opposite problem because words started to flow out of his mouth like a rushing brook. Unfortunately, they weren’t the ones John wanted to hear.

“I’m afraid Molly has always loved a good fairy tale. What nonsense, you being in love with me.” Sherlock paused for a ragged breath, “I mean, the idea of the two of us being in love with one another. Because, of course, I don’t, you don’t, I’m not…” His words trailed off as his shoulders drooped.

Knowing Sherlock only stumbled over his words on the rare occasions he was expressing sentiment, and terrified of people mocking him for it; John stood up and leaned forward. There, on the face he knew as well as his own, was a banquet of emotions: frustration, fear, hopelessness and just beneath the rest was what John so desperately wished for: love. Taking a moment to view Sherlock’s actions with new information was life changing.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, John made his way around the table and turned Sherlock towards him before yanking him down by his scarf ends. Not stopping until they were eye level, John smiled at the surprised look facing him.

“She wasn’t wrong,” he shared. “I am in love with you and have been for some time now.”

Not waiting for an answer, John framed Sherlock’s face with his hands, thumbs sliding over smooth cheekbones.

“I love you,” he whispered once more before drawing Sherlock into a tender kiss. As their lips met, John heard a pained moan.

Afraid he might have been mistaken in his deductions, he started to lean back but it seemed John’s lips leaving his was not something Sherlock would allow, now that he’d experienced the wonderful sensation. He threw his arms around his partner and pulled him tightly against his chest, chasing after another kiss. A kiss that showed more enthusiasm than finesse but John didn’t mind. They had plenty of time to work on such things.

After Sherlock broke away to catch his breath, John rested their foreheads together. He watched as Sherlock tried to get his emotions under control. After a choked, “I love you,” escaped kiss bruised lips, John ran his thumbs over Sherlock’s cheeks once more, hoping his soft caresses would help to center his love.

For a few minutes, the two men were silent. Both content to bask in the knowledge they were now in possession of the one thing they desired most: the others heart.

A text alert from Sherlock’s phone jolted them out of their little bubble and John laughed when Sherlock seemed to jump a few inches in surprise.

After giving him a few seconds to read the message, John asked, “Important?”

While typing a response, Sherlock answered, “Yes, from Lestrade. He says they’ve found our victim’s wife. She just returned from being on holiday with a friend. Well I say friend, lover would be the correct word. Anyway, Lestrade wants us to be there when they bring her in for questioning.”

“Do we have time to get something to eat first?” John asked. A hopeful look in his eyes since they’d missed lunch.

Putting his phone in a coat pocket, Sherlock smiled. “I would imagine so. There is that little Thai restaurant you love close to the Yard.”

“Oh and I’ve been craving their Koong Phao!”

After giving a quick look around to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind, John gave a nod and headed for the door, Sherlock just behind.

As they made their way down the hallway, John reached over and took a long hand in his, entwining their fingers. A look of delight filled Sherlock’s face.

“You know,” John said, “I’m going to have a get nice bouquet of flowers for Molly as a thank you.”

“Oh no, flowers end up in the waste bin in only a matter of days! It needs to be something else,” Sherlock paused for a moment, thinking. “No, I think we should send her and Lestrade on a blind date. I’ve had enough of those two. The way they act, they could be characters in a Regency romance.”

“What do you know about Regency romances?”

Sherlock waved his free hand through the air. “It was for a case.”

“Of course it was,” John laughed as he nudged Sherlock’s shoulder with his own.

The two men waited for the lift to reach their floor.

“You know,” John said, “I was thinking, after we finish with Lestrade, it might be nice to open that bottle of wine Mycroft gave me for Christmas last year.” Seeing the look on Sherlock’s face at the mention of his brother, he hurried on. “Then I thought we might play some quiet music and do one of your favorite things.”

John paused a moment for effect and then brought the other man’s head down so he could whisper; “dance,” into one of his ears. Suddenly, John found himself yanked away from the lift and towards the door leading to the stairwell.

“What are you doing?”

Not stopping to explain himself, Sherlock began to race up the stairs, his grip on John’s hand firm. “The lift is still on the second floor. Too long a wait, this way is faster! We’ll give Lestrade half an hour and get take away from the restaurant. I’ll text Mrs. Hudson and tell her to chill the wine in a bucket of ice and water for us. Then, while you eat I’ll clear some space in the living room.”

Before John could comment, he found himself pushed against a cold wall, Sherlock gave him a brief, hard kiss before starting them back up the stairs.

Giggling, John thought, _‘I don’t care what he says, I’m sending Molly a dozen deep pink roses and if Greg sees them and gets the wrong idea, well, a little jealousy on his part won’t hurt them when they go on their blind date.’_

Hearing Sherlock call out, “Come on, hurry!” made John realize he had slowed down while distracted. He took a deep breath and ran up the stairs. There were all sorts of possibilities waiting for them tonight and he wasn’t going to waste any more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: According to theflowerexpert.com, deep pink rose blooms convey deep gratitude and appreciation.


End file.
